The Grumpy Grapplertag:typepad.com,2003:weblog-1133419341653337732017-02-25T07:53:34-05:00TypePadOn Medals, Belts, and the Coinage of the Realmtag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a01901e204628970b01b7c8da05f8970b2017-02-25T07:53:34-05:002017-02-25T08:04:33-05:00In the competitive framework, medals are the coinage of the realm--with a hierarchy of local, regional, national, and international circuits that serve as the proving grounds. In this ecosystem, it's clear as day that not all practitioners and competitors are created equally. The same can be said both at a...Thomas Nadelhoffer

In the competitive framework, medals are the coinage of the realm--with a hierarchy of local, regional, national, and international circuits that serve as the proving grounds. In this ecosystem, it's clear as day that not all practitioners and competitors are created equally. The same can be saidboth at a time between competitors and across times. So, for instance, being a multi-time world champion as an adult in jiu jitsu is more impressive and significant than being a master or senior world champion merely once (as impressive as that might be when viewed from yet another scale of analysis). While both are impressive accomplishments--that often go together as today's world champions are commonly tomorrow's master and senior world champions--no one should pretend that the former and latter are somehow equivalent in their magnitude and significance. All other things being equal, the winner of ADCC is a better grappler than the winner of a regional NAGA--even though both may hold the same belt.

This kind of hierarchical competitive framework is something one is well aware of growing up in other grapplings arts. For instance, being a state champion from Iowa or Pennsylvania has always meant more than being a state champion from Florida or Georgia (which is where I grew up) just as being a national champion is less impressive than being a world champion or Olympian, and so on. So, one's skills and accomplishments must always be relativized to the appropriate scale or competitive niche in order to serve as a useful tool of comparison.

It is partly for this reason that belts and belt progression are helpful. They relativize individuals both to lineages and affiliations across times and during times. If you tell me that someone is a multi-time world champion at white, blue, purple, brown, and black belt who trains under the Alliance banner, I know what that means--namely, they will easily submit me as well as most of the people I have ever or will ever train with. In short, once properly relativized, our respective places in the overall and ever-expanding evolutionary ecosystems is well-established. As someone who grew up wrestling and competing successfully in the south and someone who competed both as an adult and as a senior in jiu jitsu (at the regional, national, and international level), I know my place. I have earned gold and silver at local tournaments and lost embarrassingly during the the first round at the Pans.

But once we leave the competitive realm, where it is easier to know one's place in the respective hierarchies--belts replace medals as the local coinage and things become inevitably murkier. To the untrained masses who serve as possible consumers, customers, training partners, and fellow students, belts and lineages serve as surrogates and social signifiers for legitimacy and success. At this scale of analysis, black belts trump brown belts and so on, down the line. So, a gym with a black belt (or multiple black belts) will tend to garner more interest than a gym with only a purple belt (although, this, too, used to be different when there were not many black belts outside of Brazil). But even here the belts are still scale-variant. For some black belts are hobbyists who have never competed, some are former or active competitors, and the competitors can be further broken down based on the strength of their accomplishments etc. Moreover, this scale-variance is further complicated by the unique goals, needs and interests of the practitioners themselves--e.g., I am less interested in whether someone is a world beater and more interested in whether they are a good instructor.

Yet further compounding matters is the fact that competitive success is no guarantee of pedagogical success. After all, lots of great champions make for horrible teachers and vice versa--a number of great teachers were never great competitors themselves. So, while competitive success and medals serve as proxies much as belts (or lineages) serve as proxies at other levels, there are never any guarantees. So, the respective tokens of success in jiu jitsu--medals, on the one hand, and belts, on the other hand--can and should be both scale-variant and relativized to one's own uniques interests and preferences. As a practitioner, competitor, student, or coach, one will always do well to keep this fact in mind--which will help instill a sense of humility when it comes to one's place (or lack thereof) among the pantheon of jiu jitsu greats to one's place on the regional competitive circuit or even one's place within one's gym or affiliation.

It is this perceptive that will ultimately help one make progress. For my part, I am a busted up but grizzled purple belt with more teaching experience than is common for someone at my belt level. I am also someone who has spent enough time on the mats to know my strengths, weaknesses, and limitations. But for all that, I am no world beater--and neither are my training partners. But I am comfortable in my own skin just as I am comfortable with the scale-variant nature of my successes and failures--both locally and more broadly. I would like to think this makes me a better training partner, student, and instructor. If not, perhaps more deep thinking about medals, belts, promotions, and scale variation might do me some good. I could also just go to open mats and try to enjoy some flow rolls--which is all I really have left these days anyway (other than early morning missives here at The Grumpy Grappler, of course).

Self-Defense: Supply and Demand?tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a01901e204628970b01b7c8d3508c970b2017-02-07T20:44:17-05:002017-02-07T23:35:02-05:00In a series of posts last year here at The Grumpy Grappler, I released some findings from an online BJJ survey I ran that explored a wide range of issues and which included data from 700+ practitioners from around the world. See here, here, here, here, and here to get...Thomas Nadelhoffer

In a series of posts last year here at The Grumpy Grappler, I released some findings from an online BJJ survey I ran that explored a wide range of issues and which included data from 700+ practitioners from around the world. See here, here, here, here, and here to get started! You can even find the complete data set here--which is free to use for your research purposes (whether you are a practitioner, gym owner, sports doctor, or kimono manufacturer)! There are lots of interesting issues to explore and lots of data to sift through for interested parties.

For now, I want to focus on some findings I take to be noteworthy when it comes to (a) why people start training, on the other hand, and (b) how gyms tend to be organized (in terms of curricula), on the other hand. More specifically, if you peruse the hundreds of write-in responses below (see attached document) concerning why respondents started training jiu jitsu in the first place, you’ll quickly see that a common and unsurprising theme is that a bulk of people come to jiu jitsu looking to either learn self-defense or to get in shape (or some combination of the two).

Like me, many of the participants in this study were first exposed to the art of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu (BJJ) via The Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC). It was seeing Royce Gracie’s early success with BJJ that planted the seeds of my own interest in the then mysterious art. As someone who already had a background in another grappling-centric martial art (namely, American folk style wrestling), jiu jitsu was a natural fit for me. And my own jiu jitsu journey continues to this day.

But for present purposes, I don’t want to focus on my own experiences with the martial art. Instead, I want to focus on the disconnect between people’s stated motivation for getting into jiu jitsu and how gyms are often run and operated. Consider, for instance, the responses to the following question from the survey:

Q13 - Does your academy focus on self-defense?

Self-defense is the primary focus 6.35% 42Self-defense is one of several focuses 54.61% 361Self-defense is not a focus at my academy 39.03% 258

Total 100% 661

In short, nearly 40% of gyms do not focus on self-defense training—a surprising number given people’s aforementioned statements concerning why they started training jiu jitsu. If learning self-defense and getting in shape are two key motivations, then perhaps it would make more sense for gym owners to build these two elements into their curriculum more overtly when possible.

Instead, uninspired warm ups and a focus on the sportive elements of BJJ can often be the norm at gyms around the country. Indeed, the take down has even become a lost art in many gyms where participants always (or almost always) begin from the knees while "live training"—which is a deleterious if understandable practice that removes much of the realism from many of the techniques of BJJ.

Click on the following attachment to see the complete responses to the question about why people started training jiu jitsu. Just for kicks, I included the responses to two follow up questions as well that focus on people's likes and dislikes when it comes to jiu jitsu! The entire document is 70+ pages long, so there is plenty to see for those who have the time.

That's it for now. I hope this is useful to at least some readers of the blog--especially those who want to see more self-defense training offered in gyms!

p.s. This state of affairs is partly what motivated me to start a non-profit called Learn to Resist that aims to provide self-defense training to members of the local community. You can find more details about this side project here. The over-arching goal is to make jiu jitsu-inspired self-defense training available to presently under-served communities—e.g., women, at-risk youth, and veterans.

Buckets of Progresstag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a01901e204628970b01b7c8b9359b970b2016-12-06T05:11:05-05:002016-12-06T05:11:05-05:00As many readers know, my health has been deteriorating for some time. While I had a second neck surgery last December to stem the tide of nerve and muscular degeneration, I am still having some problems with my right hand. Needless to say, these can be trying times. I teach...Thomas Nadelhoffer

As many readers know, my health has been deteriorating for some time. While I had a second neck surgery last December to stem the tide of nerve and muscular degeneration, I am still having some problems with my right hand. Needless to say, these can be trying times. I teach and write for a living (plus I am right handed). Feeling like I have a fire inside my dominant arm and/or feeling like my fingers are numb and heavy doesn't make me a happy person. It also makes it hard for me to train as I would prefer. Indeed, other than some occasional leg locks/footsies (which keeps my neck and my opponent's neck out of play), I am very limited when it comes to what I can do on the mats.

So, where does that leave my progression? I started this more than a decade ago and because I have moved around a lot, my own journey has been a slow one (there's nothing quite like constantly being the "new guy" to slow your promotions to a trickle). Despite trying my best to be an encyclopedia of grappling knowledge, pouring my energy into being the best teacher I can be, running a blog, watching as much instructional and competition video as my professional life allows, regularly showing up to class, etc., I am nevertheless a busted up and broken 43 year old who can no longer roll without placing myself in unnecessary danger. So, how do I move forward?

This is obviously precisely the sort of question one ought to be asking one's coaches and instructors--which is what I am starting to do. With several black belts just at our gym alone, it will take a while for me to make the rounds. But some of the first advice I got yesterday was helpful and thought provoking--so, I thought I would share it with the readers of the blog. In short, I was told to look at progression as a series of buckets. Each bucket represents another skill or way of making valuable contributions to the gym. There is a competition bucket. There is a bucket that is focused on making progress relative to other teammates. There is a bucket for collecting one's knowledge and yet another for keeping up with how well you transmit that knowledge to others. There is a bucket for how well you represent the gym--e.g., are you a good ambassador? There is yet another bucket for how you treat other people in the gym--especially lower belts.

On this bucket list approach, each practitioner is going to have a different bucket composition. In my case, while I have competed in the past, that is not part of my future. The same goes for measuring my skills against the other members of the gym. I am too busted up and rolling is potentially too dangerous. So, I am relegated to filling these other buckets as a way of making up the difference.

My question is: Are these other buckets as respected and as noticed as the first two? In my experience, based on time spent at multiple gyms around the country, the answer is "no." Knowledge, technical proficiency, teaching skills, ambassadorship, and these others facets of growth tend to be undervalued while ability during live rolls is the gold standard for progress. I am not in a position to say whether this set of evaluative preferences is the right one. What I will say is that it can seem unfair at times. After all, one's knowledge base and one's ability to teach seem every bit as important as one's ability to roll--especially when one can't roll through no fault of one's own. But so long as rolling is the gold standard, someone in my position will be on the proverbial slow track when it comes to promotions even if those being promoted may know less, teach less, help less, etc. So, while I really like the bucket approach to thinking about progress in jiu jitsu, I, for one, think all buckets should be created equally--except for perhaps the competition bucket (which really is the highest proving ground).

But here again, my thoughts are neither here nor there. If you find yourself in my unenviable position, all you can do is keep your head down and work on filling the buckets you have the capacity to fill. If you can't compete or train, then teach. If you're not yet ready to teach, be the best ambassador for the gym you can be. Be nice to lower belts--help them improve rather than using them merely to shore up your own game. Come to class regularly, pay attention, and work hard. Most importantly, try hard not to pay attention to how and when others are progressing. As I have learned, this is a fool's errand, more likely to frustrate than to be illuminating. Instead, have a open and frank discussion with your instructors about what they value and how they evaluate--especially in atypical cases. No one owes you anything in life in some deeper sense. But that doesn't mean that the people who you select as mentors don't owe you an explanation--especially when you are doing the best you can to progress in the only ways you can. So, don't give up just because your path is different, slower, or more frustrating. Keep your eye on the final goal and not other people's journeys. That will do nothing but complicate and problematize your own journey. Indeed, it may even set you back a few steps or stop your journey in its tracks altogether.

Questions from a Readertag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a01901e204628970b01bb092649bf970d2016-08-03T12:54:52-04:002016-08-03T12:46:17-04:00I received an illustrative email from a white belt who was been training for six months. He has a background in competitive sports (e.g., he played football in college) and he's also been having some success early on in training and competition. Yet, he nevertheless has some questions and concerns....Thomas Nadelhoffer

I received an illustrative email from a white belt who was been training for six months. He has a background in competitive sports (e.g., he played football in college) and he's also been having some success early on in training and competition. Yet, he nevertheless has some questions and concerns. He contacted me because he has read my posts on the philosophy and pedagogy of jiu jitsu and he likes my approach to thinking about these issues. I thought that rather than simply responding behind closed doors, so to speak, I would post his questions along with my answers here on The Grumpy Grappler.

But first, let me just say that if gym owners and instructors did a better job at being explicit and transparent when it comes to etiquette, expectations, and related matters, fewer students who are new to the gentle art would feel like they’re fumbling in the dark. It’s hard enough to learn basic techniques in the beginning without having to deal with mystery-mongering about other important aspects of training jiu jitsu. That said, you can find his questions and my replies below the fold!

Here is his first question:

How hard should I roll with a partner in a sparring session? (I ask this because I have read various BJJ philosophies that say one should never try to win a roll. However, this is confusing to me since the objective is to tap your opponent. I often become unfocused or submissive as to not be perceived as being too intense, especially against a higher belt whom I feel I could potentially tap.)

This is a good question. As someone who adheres to the view that one should not be trying to “win” against one’s training partners—whether they are upper belts or lower belts—I think it’s important to carefully articulate how to make sense of the surface tension between being told not to try to win in practice while at the same time being told to work to advance position, submit, etc.

For starters, it’s important to note the context-sensitivity of the view. If one is competing, for example, then one should be trying to win against one’s opponent—since, this is at least one of the goals of competition. Your opponents tend not to be your training partners. In this context, you are matching your skills against an adversary who is trying to get the best of you. As such, adopting a “winning mindset” can be appropriate (although one need not adopt this mindset even in competitive situations). However, in practice, the people we are training with are supposed to be our partners (and often our friends).

So, while it is perfectly appropriate to work for submissions, etc., one should do so with a more tempered approach. There is no winning in the academy. No medals are being awarded and no titles are on the line. So, while people can and should focus on making progress, the mindset ought to be one of mutual benefit—that is, one should not only be trying to make oneself better, one should also be committed to making one’s training partners better as well (especially those who hold a lower rank). Adopting an adversarial approach to one’s training partners is problematic. If your partner holds a lower rank, one should take care not to smash them (since that won’t make either of you better). If your partner holds a higher rank, trying to smash him is misguided. On the one hand, it suggests you don’t respect his rank. On the other hand, it suggests you aren’t as humble as you ought to be when rolling with more experienced grapplers. In either case, the only “victories” in the academy are centered around making progress. That’s why one should never be reluctant to tap (especially when one’s been caught) and it’s also why one should never brag about tapping one’s partners.

This isn’t to suggest that one should never train hard in the academy. The issue isn’t about whether one must train hard or lightly. The issue is what mindset is appropriate when training in the academy. In my experience, adopting a “winning mindset” (or worse, a “winning at all costs” mindset) in the gym is more likely to engender anger and animosity and more likely to cause people to feel either unfairly trampled (if a lower belt) or disrespected (if a higher belt).

What are the social norms for approaching and talking to a higher rank such as a purple, brown, or black belt? (I ask this because I was not briefed on rules and cordiality at my gym by anyone.)

Unsurprisingly, the norms on this front seem to vary from gym to gym. The only way to ascertain what is appropriate is to ask your instructor for his or her preference. In some gyms, lower belts are discouraged from asking upper belts to roll. Other gyms are much more open, permissive, and less hierarchical. While I prefer the latter approach to the former, it really does depend.

What are your thoughts on the teaching of general principles in BJJ as opposed to specific technical moves? (I ask this because my game is based on speed and I find myself using unlimited "little subtle" --as I call them--techniques that are unique to my style just as other "little subtle" techniques are unique to another's style--they cannot be learned but rather are intrinsic. To add to my thoughts on the teaching of general principle, I find myself having skipped steps in understanding fundamentals yet I learn a new, complex submission or positional transition every class. All the while I don't have general ideas on how to escape or attack from various positions simply as a way to initiate flow and movement.)

Unsurprisingly, as an academic philosopher, I am a fan of general principles and concepts. But I think it is a false dichotomy to assume that there is any *opposition* between general principles and particular techniques. Indeed, in some important sense, there can’t be any conflict between the two. Rather, general principles and particular techniques go hand in hand. So, while we both can and should focus much of our attention on learning the details of specific techniques, I think we should also spend some time thinking about the underlying principles and concepts of control that make these techniques work. While you may progress during the early stages of your jiu jitsu journey by relying on speed or athleticism (which will decline with age)—even if you don’t pay sufficient details to understanding the fundamentals—this will positively impede your progress at later stages.

Keep in mind that one’s jiu jitsu journey is not a sprint. It is a marathon. And treating the latter as the former is bound to lead to failure and frustration (just as it would on a track—to overuse the metaphor). That said, while any instructor worth his or her salt should be able to teach your plenty of specific techniques, I have encountered a number of instructors (both here and abroad) who are not very good at articulating and explaining more abstract principles or concepts. In many cases, it’s because they managed to learn these principles tacitly during the course of their own journey. But I nevertheless think instructors should spend more time thinking about principles and more time imparting this knowledge explicitly to their students.

Ultimately I am struggling to understand my place at the gym. I know I am good for how little I have trained and I know I am perceived that way by others but it seems like I am not being accepted warmly despite what I believe to be obvious potential. [Backed up by tournament success early in his career--the details of which have been deleted to preserve anonymity]. Obviously the neurotic (and philosophical) predisposition that I project onto the situation is contributing to the strange dynamic I am sensing but I cannot help but think that if I were being instructed differently, things would feel better. I do not know if you can relate but any input would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for your time grumpy grappler!

Not knowing you, your training partners, or your instructors, obviously I can’t know for sure why you are feeling like you’re not receiving a warm welcome (despite your success early on in your journey). Perhaps you are overthinking things. My hunch, however, is that you are rolling with an inappropriate mindset with lower and upper belts alike—which creates different issues in each case. I have two pieces of advice to give on this front.

First, remember what I said earlier about the different mindsets and attitudes one should adopt under different circumstances (e.g., practice vs. competing). If you go “all out” during every roll, not only does it make it more likely you hurt people less experienced than you are but it also makes it more likely you will get hurt by people with more experience. That said, remember, it’s not so much how hard you’re trying, it’s about your attitude. If you roll during practice like someone who is “collecting scalps,” then don’t be surprised when lots of your training partners don’t welcome you with open arms.

Second, and this is the most important advice I have to give, you should feel free to talk to your instructor about the sorts of questions you sent me. If your instructor seems put off by your asking these sorts of understandable questions, then perhaps you should try to find a new gym. You aren’t a member of cult sworn to silence. You are a paying customer and a member of an academy. Your instructor should want you to succeed and fit in well with the rest of the gym. Shedding light on the sorts of issues you raised is simply part of the job description. But unless and until you ask for input and advice, you may not receive it. That’s partly on you (for being afraid to ask) and partly on your instructor (for making you feel as if asking is inappropriate).

These are just my two cents. I hope they help. Either way, keep training, keep learning, and keep asking questions along the way!

Anger and BJJ (A Follow Up) tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a01901e204628970b01b8d20abfa0970c2016-07-29T07:48:54-04:002016-07-29T07:51:02-04:00In response to a piece I wrote for BJJ Eastern Europe on anger and jiu jitsu (see here)--where I suggested that anger is bad both for training and competing--I got a message from a reader who liked the article but pushed me to further explain my claim that anger is...Thomas Nadelhoffer

In response to a piece I wrote for BJJ Eastern Europe on anger and jiu jitsu (see here)--where I suggested that anger is bad both for training and competing--I got a message from a reader who liked the article but pushed me to further explain my claim that anger is maladaptive on the mats. On his view, because jiu jitsu is a martial art and competing is a combat sport, anger and hostility seem appropriate emotional and motivational states in the context of competitions even if anger may not be appropriate in the training room. After all, my opponent is trying to harm me, so why wouldn’t anger and hostility be suitable emotional states under these circumstances? That’s a very good question. So before I write the third and final post in this series about anger—which will focus on anger management for jiu jitsukas—I thought I would further flesh out my view that anger is more likely to hinder (rather than foster) one’s development and progress in jiu jitsu.

The best place to begin this investigation is to explore some aspects of anger that I didn’t highlight in my earlier piece as much as I could (and should) have—namely, that anger is retaliatory and remedial in nature. When I am fearful or afraid, it engages my biological flight mechanism whereas when I am angry it triggers my fight mechanisms. So, when I am angry at someone (e.g., a friend who has betrayed me) or something (e.g., an unjust social arrangement or institution), one of the primary goals of this emotional state is getting payback. In this sense, anger is usually targeted at people or institutions that have unjustly or unfairly and intentionally harmed me or someone I care about. While we sometimes talk about being “angry at the world,” anger is not normally this diffuse in practice. Instead, it is narrowly directed at specific individuals and institutions that have intentionally harmed us in some way or another.

As such, it’s not hard to see why anger was biologically adaptive. Individuals who did not get angry when unfairly provoked or attacked would be viewed as spineless pushovers—which would make it less likely these individuals would do well in the struggle of the survival of the fittest. Individuals who become angry when provoked are less likely to be provoked in the first place. So, the propensity for anger has a deterrent effect on others. Conversely, individuals who do not get angry (and hence do not get even) will invite more provocation and abuse than their anger-prone counterparts.

But as I said in my first piece, just because anger has been and can be adaptive doesn’t mean it’s appropriate in the context of jiu jitsu. Indeed, on the contrary, I think that more often than not anger will tend to be either misplaced or disproportionate (or both) on the mats. Let’s start with the former claim. Imagine a student who comes to class already filled with anger and hostility about transgressions that occurred outside of the gym. Now, he comes to practice looking to take out his anger on his training partners. In this case, the anger is misplaced because it is not targeted at the right individuals or institutions. Rather than being directed at the people or institutions that caused the feelings of anger and frustration in the first place—which are the apt targets—this angry individual is unfairly taking out his anger on people who did not cause him unjust or unfair harm and who don’t deserve his ire or abuse. Hence, in these contexts, the anger is misplaced and inappropriate.

Now, let’s imagine instead someone who comes to practice looking to take out his anger on a training partner at the gym who he believes has harmed or disrespected him unjustly or unfairly. Here, the anger won’t be misplaced—assuming he’s right to feel aggrieved by his teammate’s behavior. However, anger may still be inappropriate even in these contexts. After all, another property of anger is that it tends to cloud our judgment. When we’re in the throes of anger, our emotions often get the best of us, leading us to get carried away. The angrier we are, the more likely we are to lose our cool. In these contexts, we will tend to dish out more payback and punishment than our offending training partner deserves. So, the angry student under these circumstances may end up injuring a teammate for a minor violation. In this respect, anger often leads to disproportionate punishment—which can start a cycle of retaliation that threatens to spiral out of control. If I unfairly harm someone in a minor way but his response is overblown, then I will be angry myself and seek to get my own payback. This kind of cycle of reciprocal anger is the stuff of which blood feuds are made.

So, at least when it comes to training partners, given the tendency for anger to be either misplaced or disproportionate, anger is often maladaptive in the gym. On the one hand, one shouldn’t bring one’s anger into the gym only to target completely innocent training partners. On the other hand, in the heat of a roll, it is especially difficult to keep one’s anger in check even when the anger is justified and directed at an otherwise apt target. As I will argue in the third and final piece in this installment, there are better ways of dealing with anger that is caused by one’s fellow students (or even one’s instructors).

But what about anger in the context of competition? Why isn’t anger appropriate under these circumstances? After all, jiu jitsu is a martial art and a combat sport. Isn’t the other person trying to harm you when you’re competing? That depends, of course. The goal of a jiu jitsu match in the competitive context isn’t (or at least shouldn’t be) to harm one’s opponents. One should merely want to win the match (by either points or submission). And while it certainly happens from time to time that one injures one’s opponent, this shouldn’t be the goal. As such, anger isn’t the right response. Why not? Because the person who injured you wasn’t trying to unjustly and intentionally harm you—he should have only been trying to win a fair competition by following the rules and trying to win. If an opponent injures you, it should be accidental. Indeed, injuries in this context are often one’s own fault when they occur—e.g., you didn’t tap as early and as soon as you could have. By stubbornly refusing to tap, you brought about your own injury. So, if you should be angry with anyone, it should be with yourself and not your opponent!

In short, so long as both competitors in a tournament agree to and act according to the rules, no unfair or unjust harms are caused. And if there are no unjust or unfair harms caused, anger is misplaced—even in the context of combat sports like jiu jitsu. So, while one certainly can use anger as fuel for the fight, it is nevertheless misplaced. Moreover, if one relies on anger as motivation, one is also likely to overreact to perceived harms during the match, which will in turn often lead to unsportsmanlike behavior. In these respects, anger creates the same problems in competitions that it causes in the training room. Just because your opponent is trying to beat you, it doesn’t mean he is trying unjustly or unfairly harm you. And if he is, you have a right to be angry, but you should still keep your anger in check during the match lest you help create a cycle of paybacks that will quickly spiral out of control. If you have a genuine reason to be angry at a fellow competitor based on being unfairly or unjustly harmed, then this is something that should be expressed and addressed after the match when cooler heads are more likely to prevail. Getting angry during the match will only take you off of your game. This suggests that even when anger is justified, it can be counter-productive in a competitive setting.

The Survey Says...tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a01901e204628970b01b7c8742441970b2016-06-27T17:15:58-04:002016-06-27T17:15:58-04:00As someone who works in both philosophy and psychology, I have often been puzzled by how little data there seem to be on jiu jitsu practitioners. This is all the more puzzling given how many hotly contested debates depend on factual claims for which there is only anecdotal (if any)...Thomas Nadelhoffer

As someone who works in both philosophy and psychology, I have often been puzzled by how little data there seem to be on jiu jitsu practitioners. This is all the more puzzling given how many hotly contested debates depend on factual claims for which there is only anecdotal (if any) support. Since I spend a lot of time in my day job running online studies, I figured it would be a piece of cake to put together a survey for jiu jitsukas. The survey has three parts: First, I collect some basic, background demographic data. Second, I collect some data concerning people's specific jiu jitsu journeys. Finally, I collect some data that pertains to people's purchasing habits when it come to gear and apparel as well as their interest (or lack thereof) in BJJ-related websites, blogs, podcasts, etc. The more people I can get to take the time to fill out this survey the better. I can't compensate you, alas. But hopefully, you'll be willing and able to help just to satisfy your own curiosity. For instance, haven't you ever wondered what the most frequently injuries are or how long it usually takes people to progress through the ranks? Once the traffic dies down, I will close the survey and start compiling the data--which I will publish here on The Grumpy Grappler (and on R/BJJ). So, please take the survey and please help me spread the word as well. With everyone's help, we can start relying on facts rather than intuitions when it comes to the experiences and preferences of jiu jitsukas! That said, here is the link for the survey:

If you have any questions or concerns, please let me know! Thanks again! Hopefully, this fall I will run a proper scientific study on the psychology of jiu jitsukas. But first, this informal survey will have to do.

p.s. You need not answer any particular questions if you don't want to + your answers are completely anonymous. So, don't let those be reasons not to participate. The more participants the better!

Fight or Flight vs. The Flow (Part 4 of 4)tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a01901e204628970b01bb085dcbd2970d2015-08-04T08:34:24-04:002015-08-04T08:32:13-04:00This is the final post in a four-part series about the roles that the fight or flight response and the state of flow respectively play in jiu jitsu (see here, here, and here for the first three posts). In the earlier posts, I sketched out what the fight or flight...Thomas Nadelhoffer

This is the final post in a four-part series about the roles that the fight or flight response and the state of flow respectively play in jiu jitsu (see here, here, and here for the first three posts). In the earlier posts, I sketched out what the fight or flight response is, why it comes so naturally to us, and the various ways it can inhibit one’s performance on the mats while at the same time putting one’s training partners in unnecessary danger. In this post, I want to turn my focus to the state of flow. As I mentioned in the introductory post, we owe the contemporary usage of the term “flow” to the psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi—who was primarily interested in what enabled people to experience happiness while at the same time performing to the best of their abilities. By conducting a global survey of thousands of people from a wide variety of cultures, backgrounds, and areas of expertise, Csikszentmihalyi was able to start piecing together the basic elements that need to be in place in order for humans to maximally excel at what they do (whether they’re rock climbers, violinists, artists, or surgeons) and to enjoy what they’re doing.

What he found was that experts and non-experts alike tend to share a common experience when they’re performing at their best—the experience of flow. To be “in the flow” is to be in a focused state that seems at the same time effortless and maximally efficient. When we are experiencing flow, every action seems to flow (hence the term!) into the next without deliberate thought and intention. To be in the flow is to be completely engrossed in what one is doing. When we’re in this state, we experience time dilation (that is, the passing of time slows down or speeds up, depending on the context) at the same time that our auto-pilot takes over. Not only does this state enable us to achieve peak performance at what we’re doing, it is also a state that brings us pleasure and enjoyment.

So what are the conditions for achieving this state of flow? According to Csikszentmihalyi, there are nine elements that need to be in place in order for an individual to be in a state of flow—namely, “challenge-skill balance, merging of action and awareness, clarity of goals, immediate and unambiguous feedback, concentration on the task at hand, paradox of control, transformation of time, loss of self-consciousness, and autotelic experience.” To be in a state of flow is to strike an ideal balance between one’s skill set and the difficulty of the task at hand. If one is either too skilled or too unskilled (or the task is too easy or too hard), then one will not experience flow. In this sense, flow is relative both to the individual and the task. The same task can lead to flow for one individual or boredom (or frustration) for another. So, flow will be different for each of us, depending on our own unique skill set and the different tasks that are in front of us at any given time.

One of Csikszentmihalyi’s primary goals was to understand what makes people happy. On his view, there are five basic elements when it comes to the conditions which tend to foster happiness. First, we need to be focused intensely on the actions we’re performing. Second, this activity needs to be something we chose to perform. Third, the actions we perform need to be neither too easy nor too difficult. Fourth, the actions we’re performing need to have a clear objective. Finally, the objective is one that will provide us with immediate feedback. According to Csikszentmihalyi’s research, when these conditions are satisfied, we are most likely to experience both happiness and flow. Ned Hallowell—a Harvard Medical School psychiatrist—explains the importance of flow in the following way (see here for details):

Flow naturally transforms a weakling into a muscleman, a sketcher into an artist, a dancer into a ballerina, a plodder into a sprinter, an ordinary person into something extraordinary. Everything you do, you do better in flow, from baking a chocolate cake to planning a vacation to solving a differential equation to writing a business plan to playing tennis to making love. Flow is the doorway to the 'more' most of us seek. Rather than telling ourselves to get used to it, that's all there is, instead learn how to enter into flow. There you will find, in manageable doses, all the 'more' you need.

Hopefully, it’s clear already why flow is important to athletic performance—especially when it comes to something like the gentle art of jiu jitsu. Indeed, I believe the failure to achieve flow explains why so many white belts burn out—e.g., they are exposed to live rolling with more experienced grapplers too soon, which leads to frustration. I also believe the lack of flow helps explain why upper belts in unsuccessful gyms lose an interest in jiu jitsu—e.g., because the gym has a difficult time retaining students, the upper belts are insufficiently challenged by their training partners and they become bored. In either case, the lack of flow takes people away from jiu jitsu and towards other things they could be doing with their time, energy, and money.

In order to facilitate happiness and flow on the mats, students of jiu jitsu need to have the aforementioned five elements in place—which is something their instructors are partly responsible for facilitating. A good instructor will ensure that students are learning techniques that are appropriate for their level and training with comparably skilled partners. By being mindful of these two aspects of learning and training, instructors make it more likely their students experience flow, which will in turn make it more likely the students enjoy what they’re doing. It’s a win-win for instructor and student alike. The instructor retains students—which is good for business—while the students enjoy each step of their jiu jitsu journey.

I also think flow is crucial for maximizing one’s performance on the mats—whether in class or in competition. Unless and until students are able to flow roll—which will look different depending on the skill levels of the people rolling—they won’t be able get themselves in “the zone.” For in jiu jitsu as in life more generally, flow is essential. For those of us who have experienced what Scott Devine (a third degree black belt under Grand Master Relson Gracie and the namesake of the academy where I train) calls the “pure joy of the roll,” we know what it’s like to be completely lost in the moment while doing jiu jitsu. These are the epic moments when focus narrows, time seems to stand still, and our movements seem to flow from within in an effortless yet efficient manner. These are the moments that keep many of us coming back for more despite the aches and pains, the injuries, the conflicting personalities, and the occasional aggravations of gym politics. It is the pursuit and realization of the flow that drives and sustains us.

Rather than succumbing to the fight or flight response and over-doing it or freezing up altogether, when we are in a state of flow, we strike the correct balance in what we’re doing while training. To be in a state of flow on the mats is to overcome one’s primal survival responses and get lost instead in the moment. During a flow roll, one can feel “at one” with one’s partner. The give and the take is effortless. The goal is neither to win nor to impose one’s will. Rather the goal is to be lost in the moment. The roll itself is its own reward. Winning is subsidiary.

Now obviously, the competition mindset is different. After all, at least one reason for entering a completion is to try to win. But there are other reasons as well—challenging oneself, finding out where one stands relative to one’s peers, etc. Either way, I believe that unless and until one has experienced the flow in practice, one won’t maximally benefit from competing. Indeed, if one isn’t experiencing flow in practice, one will be unlikely to stick with jiu jitsu long enough to enter competitions. And when one enters a competition prematurely—that is, before one has learned how to flow roll with partners of a comparable skill level—one will end up frustrated more often that gratified by the outcome come competition time.

Or, at least, that has been my own experience. I entered my first few competitions with the wrong attitude and mindset. It wasn’t until later that I feel like I got the most out of competitions (even in defeat). Before I could excel at or enjoy competing, I first needed to train in ways that facilitated the right mindset. In this respect, flow is similar in many respects to what the Japanese call mushin (the state of “no mind”). Consider, for instance, the following remarks by the legendary Zen master Takuan Sōhō in The Unfettered Mind:

The mind must always be in the state of 'flowing,' for when it stops anywhere that means the flow is interrupted and it is this interruption that is injurious to the well-being of the mind. In the case of the swordsman, it means death. When the swordsman stands against his opponent, he is not to think of the opponent, nor of himself, nor of his enemy's sword movements. He just stands there with his sword which, forgetful of all technique, is ready only to follow the dictates of the subconscious. The man has effaced himself as the wielder of the sword. When he strikes, it is not the man but the sword in the hand of the man's subconscious that strikes.

Given the historical roots of jiu jitsu in Japanese martial arts (going back to the days of the samurai) it is perhaps unsurprising that flow plays in important role both when it comes to how much pleasure one gets from jiu jitsu and how well one is able to perform. From the outset, jiu jitsu is best done subconsciously. Rather than giving in to one’s baser subconscious drives—e.g., succumbing to the fight or flight response—one ought to let go of one’s worries and fears and embrace the moment for what it is—an opportunity both for growth and happiness.

So, try to let go of your ego. Relinquish your desire for conquest. Focus your attention on the task at hand with narrow blinders and get lost in the give and take of the flow. Both you and your partners will be better for it. Once you have learned how to roll with your training partners with an unfettered mind, you will finally be ready to test your skills against strangers. Until then, look inward rather than outward. Take a deep breath. Remember why you’re doing this in the first place. The goal isn’t to win—although that’s nice—the goal is to learn and progress while at the same time enjoying each step along the way in your own jiu jitsu journey. Embrace the flow and good things will follow. Struggle against the stream with a bad attitude and you will burn out before your journey has even really begun.

Fight or Flight vs. The Flow (Part 3 of 4)tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a01901e204628970b01b8d13cdede970c2015-07-25T06:28:31-04:002015-07-25T06:41:06-04:00In the first two posts in this four-part series (see here and here), I discussed the fight or flight response (both what it is and why we have and how it can negatively influence jiu jitsu--especially for beginners). So, I thought I would share some of my own struggles as...Thomas Nadelhoffer

In the first two posts in this four-part series (see here and here), I discussed the fight or flight response (both what it is and why we have and how it can negatively influence jiu jitsu--especially for beginners). So, I thought I would share some of my own struggles as a way of highlighting the various ways this automatic response to (mis)perceived danger can affect even someone who spent his childhood on the wrestling mats.

As someone who started jiu jitsu with a "wrestler's mindset" (having spent much of my childhood on the mats), I was always trying to be a bull-headed passer with my neck and arms exposed. As such, I frequently managed to get myself into unnecessary trouble a lot during the early days of my now nearly ten year long jiu jitsu journey. Wrestlers push a different pace, tend to be more "aggressive," and really, really, really prefer top position. Unsurprisingly, they also tend to give up their neck and their back with reckless abandon whenever they end up in bottom position. So, when I started I would go head-first trying to pass more with force and instinct than proper technique. It worked against other newbies and some slightly more experienced blue belts..

But it rarely worked with any purple belts and it never worked with brown and black belts. Rather than relaxing and treating the roll like the game it ultimately is—which I will suggest is key to understanding the true flow of the roll in Part 4 of this series—I treated each roll as a contest I had to win. So, I would go all out and gas out against upper belts—stuck in the “fight” frame of mind. Then, once I had exhausted myself to no avail, I would get put into a positional disadvantage (usually on the bottom).

Unable to move, owing to my opponents' smothering pressure and my own inadequate technique (and misplaced wrestling instincts), I would then go into full on “flight” and panic mode—thrashing around with what little energy I had left without giving adequate thought to the consequences of my often ill-conceived moves in the game of physical chess being played. The only goal was to get out, relieve the pressure, regain my breath, and regain top position. And when that too failed, as it does against people with superior skill, I would simply freeze up—stupidly stuck in place, statically awaiting (and openly inviting) my own undoing. As badly as I wanted to be the hammer, I often wound up being the nail instead (especially against those with more experience in jiu jitsu).

As is the case with most things, there are clearly individual differences when it comes to how prone to the fight or flight mechanisms are in people (see here and here for more on the psychology).

So, while some may be able to reign in the associated emotions with relative ease (and perhaps even redirect them and appropriate them to better ends), for others it can be a major barrier to one’s progress in the jiu jitsu journey. Indeed, I suspect it partly explains why so many people quit jiu jitsu at white and blue belt and so few quit at purple, brown, and black belt. Unless and until one learns how to tame the fight or flight mindset that comes quite naturally to us when someone is trying to choke us unconscious or bend our arms in unnatural directions, it is hard to truly enjoy jiu jitsu.

While the adrenaline rush may keep some people interested (for instance, as a stubborn wrestler, I stuck with it despite the frustration), lots of people will lose interest in something that chronically makes them panic-stricken, anxious, and even helpless and hopeless—all as the result of something known as both the gentle art and human chess. The more prone to the fight or flight response to dangerous situations one happens to be, the less fun one will have training jiu jitsu.

When someone is in the grips of the fight or flight response, they roll too intensely, too tensely, too tight, and too thoughtlessly. One ends up being too reactionary, always placing oneself on the defensive (and hence, often one or more steps behind). When one has succumbed to the fight or flight response, two incompatible options dominate one’s thought—kill (metaphorically, of course) or escape. The roll suddenly turns into a fight to the death instead of a mutually beneficial exchange of proprioceptive knowledge between partners and friends. Under these circumstances, hotter heads are more likely to be set ablaze and cooler heads are less likely to prevail. The “pure joy” has been drained out of the roll. It has become a competition no one really wanted to have. It has somehow become a drag.

So, how does one exorcise the fight or flight blues? In Part 4 of this article (coming soon), I will suggest that as one (a) gets more familiar with the basic bodily movements and positions, (b) starts to develop a repertoire of techniques from a wide variety of positions, and (c) develops self-awareness when it comes to one’s own aptitudes and limitations, one can slowly transition from fighting and fleeing to flowing. This state of flow is not only good for the individual, but it is crucial in order for someone to have the right attitude when it comes to training jiu jitsu.

For my part, despite training for nearly 10 years (while bouncing around the country), it is only recently that I have been able to truly relax while rolling. As such, it is only recently that I have been able to leave my wrestler's mindset behind and genuinely flow roll. But it didn't have to be this way for me. And it doesn't have to be this way for you. If you're new jiu jitsu, there are things you can focus on from the start--from the standpoint of physiology and psychology--to minimize the negative effects of the fight or flight response (e.g., focusing more on your breathing (see here, here, and here)--which is something I still struggle with even to this day).

Fortunately, there is a substantial literature in psychology on the state of flow (especially in the context of athletic endeavors and achievements). In Part 4, I will suggest that the capacity for jiu jitsu to put its practitioners in a state of flow is one of its primary benefits. Like the self-defense element of jiu jitsu (which is important and useful in its own right), I think flow (as exemplified by genuine “flow rolling”) has real world applications and consequences as well. Or at least that is what the data from psychology suggest. But more on that later…

For now, I just want to end on an optimistic note—imploring those who are new to jiu jitsu to stick with it. Things may seem frantic, confusing, and even demoralizing in the beginning. These experiences can leave one stuck in a near constant state of fight or flight—which doesn’t do anyone any favors. But don’t be dejected. Seek solace in the fact that everyone goes through the same learning curve (even if the curve is steeper for some than others—partly owing to nature and partly owing to nurture). So, don't give up on yourself and don't give in to your baser biological impulses. It turns out we can exercise some control over whether we give in to the dreaded fight or flight response or go with the flow instead. So, stay tuned! There is hope yet!

Fight or Flight vs. The Flow (Part 2 of 4)tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a01901e204628970b01bb0856c63f970d2015-07-24T10:22:07-04:002015-08-04T11:01:47-04:00Yesterday, I posted the first installment in this four part series--which focused very briefly on the science behind the fight or flight response. In today's follow up post, I want to discuss why I think that this response is so detrimental when it comes to jiu jitsu. Indeed, I suspect...Thomas Nadelhoffer

Yesterday, I posted the first installment in this four part series--which focused very briefly on the science behind the fight or flight response. In today's follow up post, I want to discuss why I think that this response is so detrimental when it comes to jiu jitsu. Indeed, I suspect it is the #1 reason white belts roll as spastically as they notoriously do (which makes rolling more dangerous for everyone involved). As I mentioned in the previous post, because the fight or flight response is largely automatic, once it takes hold, it is hard to reel back in (especially in situations where someone is trying to pin you in place or submit you).

So, perhaps the best way to begin this post on the deleterious role the fight or flight response plays in jiu jitsu is to point out the obvious fact that every grappler has experienced this response at some point in their development. We have all had those moments when we simply couldn’t move or when we were inextricably immobilized by someone who had more skill (or size and strength) than we did. The power and skill asymmetries can be psychologically jarring (especially when one is doubly disadvantaged in both ways). When the name of the game is control and submission (which is itself a powerful element of the psychology of the gentle art), one learns early on that the technique must be respected just as it must be learned.

Unconsciousness and trips to the hospital to have ligaments replaced are real (if uncommon) consequences of this “game” we voluntarily play. As gentle as the art of jiu jitsu may be in some respects, it can still be dangerous business. As such, it requires a tremendous amount of both trust and patience between training partners (and instructors)—which is something that takes time to develop (especially when one first starts jiu jitsu. In the beginning, your training partners may be complete strangers—strangers seeking to submit you (however friendly they may otherwise be). This is a perfect recipe for the fight or flight response for those who are new to jiu jitsu.

In light of this dynamic, one of the biggest earlier impediments to progress in jiu jitsu—and one of the major reasons upper belts don’t want to roll with lower belts—is that the less experienced people are, the more prone they are to have the fight or flight response to live training (which is turn makes those new to the art far more likely to "spaz out"). Rather than staying relaxed, thinking through their movements, and executing a plan, grapplers in the throes of the fight or flight response thrash around instead, often for no apparent rhyme or reason. Unsurprisingly, the more one fights and struggles inefficiently against someone with positional dominance (or the more one flails around in a fury even when given top control), the more fuel is thrown onto the kinetic fire that is the fight or flight response.

This burst of inefficient and often pointlessly wasted energy will soon be followed by a dreaded adrenaline dump that will burn one out in short order—leaving one exhausted and perhaps even panicked. Not only is this a well-worn script for completely gassing yourself out, but your spastic dervish of activity also makes it more likely your partner gets hurt along the way. You know not what you do and you’re overdoing it.

This misguided and misplaced whirlwind creates unnecessary risks for both you and your partner. In short, the fight or flight response is doubly bad for practitioners of jiu jitsu. On the one hand, it can be frustrating and demoralizing for the people who experience it—making it more likely they hurt themselves and their partners. On the other hand, it can be irritating for the training partners who have to endure and tolerate the spastic overdrive that is produced by the fight or flight response (without losing their own cool along the way).

Yet, as we saw earlier, there are good biological reasons for why humans have these types of experiences in the presence of danger and the threat of violence. So, while the fight or flight response may be impeding your jiu jitsu, it served our evolutionary ancestors quite well—which is why it is so deeply entrenched in our psyche (and so difficult for some people to overcome). Don’t get me wrong. The fight or flight response can be crucial when we’re faced with a genuine threat (e.g., an assailant is attacking our family or the house we’re in is about to explode).

But when we are simply training in the safe confines of a jiu jitsu gym, the otherwise useful fight or flight response is misplaced and impedes both one’s learning and one’s enjoyment of this complex game of human chess. Succumbing to the fight or flight response while rolling turns us into our own worst enemies in short order. We either end up freezing up or freaking out without proper control and adequate forethought concerning the consequences of each motion being made.

Either response is counter-productive. If you simply freeze up and accept someone’s having positional dominance, you will get submitted in the end. If you instead do the opposite and roll with reckless abandon, a better training partner will simply either wait until your energy wears down (which it will when the adrenaline dump is over) or they will respond by rolling harder with you than would otherwise have been the case (or both). It’s a lose-lose for you however things unfold—all because you, too, are subject to deeply entrenched biological impulses that protect us from predators while exposing our training partners to unnecessary risk.

So, what is the cure for this evolutionary madness that is sweeping through gyms everywhere? The first step, or so I will suggest, is to better understand what we’re up against. So, in the next post (Part 3), I will start with an auto-biographical sketch about my own battles with the fight or flight response. Having explained the various ways this response has negatively impacted my own jiu jitsu journey, I will then go on in Part 4 to sketch out the solution to the problem—namely, working towards experiencing states of flow instead. In this sense, developing the ability to genuinely “flow roll” is an integral part of one’s development in the gentle art—or, so I will argue soon. Stay tuned!

p.s. An astute commentator over at reddit/bjj pointed out that the terms "spaz" and "spastic" have a pejorative meaning. Having done a little searching around, I now regret having used them. As someone who runs a blog about the philosophy of disability, I should have known better. But rather than edit the post after the fact, I would prefer to leave my mistake and apologize for it here in the post-script. I will be more careful in the future with the terms I use. Just because it a term is commonly used in jiu jitsu circles doesn't make it appropriate to use the term. Lesson learned (8/4/2015).

Fight or Flight vs. The Flow (Part 1 of 4)tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a01901e204628970b01b7c7b2a71e970b2015-07-23T16:02:09-04:002015-07-24T10:13:07-04:00This is the first installment in a three-part series about the psychology of jiu jitsu—which will be one of my first attempts to wed by own professional interests in philosophy and psychology with my love of jiu jitsu. More specifically, I will focus on two very specific aspects of live...Thomas Nadelhoffer

This is the first installment in a three-part series about the psychology of jiu jitsu—which will be one of my first attempts to wed by own professional interests in philosophy and psychology with my love of jiu jitsu. More specifically, I will focus on two very specific aspects of live rolling that I find particularly interesting and important. In the first two posts, I will focus on the well-studied and well-understood fight or flight response (see here and here for details)--both what it is (Part 1) and how I believe it negatively influences what people experience and how they perform when doing jiu jitsu (Part 2 and Part 3).

In the final post (Part 4), I will focus on the nature and benefits of being in a "state of flow"—that is, being lost in the moment such that one finds "an intrinsic reward for participation in an activity (Csikszentmihalyi, 1977). When people experience the state of flow, there is an optimal balance between how challenging they find the action being performed and their simultaneous self-awareness regarding their own skills and limitations with respect to the performance of this action (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990).

Sometimes flow is experienced in isolation (e.g., gymnastics) and sometimes it is experienced in situations directly involving others (e.g., jiu jitsu). In both cases, not only does flow improve one's performance, it also enhances one's overall happiness. During the past 30+ years, flow has been correlated with a narrowing of focus or attention (Webster, Trevino, and Ryan, 1993), improved learning (Canter, Rivers and Storrs, 1985), an increased sense of playfulness (Webster and Martocchio, 1992), improved voluntary control (Ghani and Deshpande. 1994), and increased positive subjective experiences overall (Csikszentmihalyi, 1997). In short, flow is good for you (and it can be difficult to achieve).

Unsurprisingly, flow is one of the more central concepts of positive psychology--a relatively new but rapidly growing field of psychology that focuses more on mental well-being and flourishing than abnormality, illness, and disorder (see here for a nice introduction). But because the fight or flight response is far more common than flow in jiu jitsu among lower belts (especially during live training), it will serve as the starting point of our present investigation. Exploring both the nature and benefit of flow will have to wait until Part 4. The role played by the fight or flight response in jiu jitsu is a more pressing issue. So, it will be our focus in Part 2 and Part 3. But before we discuss what I take to be the negative role that the fight or flight response plays in jiu jitsu, we first need to get a bit clearer about precisely what it is, why we experience it, and why it's often bad for us (both physically and psychologically)--which is the subject of Part 1.

For starters, we owe the notion to Walter Bradford Cannon—a professor of physiology and chair of Harvard Medical School back in the early 1900s. Cannon is one of the 100 most cited psychologist of the 20th century--so, as far as psychologists go, he's a luminary of the field. One of his key areas of research was his ground-breaking work on the fight or flight response. On his view, the fight or flight response is a physiological and psychological reaction to perceived threat—a response that prompts either a struggle for survival (if necessary) or a hasty retreat (if possible). When we feel like we’re in danger, it increases activity in our sympathetic nervous system—which in turn primes us to either stand our ground or flee. This increased activity in our autonomic nervous system also leads to a neurochemical cascade that includes norepinephrine, epinephrine, cortisol, and adrenaline—among a host of other things.

The fight or flight response is associated with a number of additional physiological responses as well (see the bottom of this illustration for just some examples):

These are just some of the physiological events that are associated with the fight or flight response (for more on the fine-grained neuro-chemical details, see here). By improving focus and attention while at the same enabling more blood to reach the major muscles, the fight or flight response puts us in a prime position to do what is necessary to survive an immediate threat. It’s no small wonder, then, that it served our evolutionary ancestors well.

Another important feature of the fight or flight response that merits closer consideration is the fact that it is largely (if not entirely) automatic. It is more like a reflex rather than the product of our calm and reflective capacity for rational thought and action. As such, like a number of other evolutionarily advantageous patterns of thoughts and behaviors, it, too, can misfire. Not only can the fight or flight response be engaged in situations that don't require it, but some individuals end up being physiologically stuck in a near constant and chronic state of fight or flight--which produces a tremendous amount of stress and anxiety (see here and here for details).

As such, the fight or flight response is a mixed blessing. It's a great automatic reaction to have when one's life is genuinely in danger--which is pretty rare these days for most people--but it can produce unnecessary stress when we come to constantly feel as if we were under siege (even when the perceived threat or danger isn't real). So, in general, the less we experience the fight or flight response, the less stressed and anxious we'll be (and hence the more happiness and flourishing we will experience). And unsurprisingly, what's true of life is true of jiu jitsu.

So, in Part 2, I will connect what we've discussed here about the fight or flight response specifically to jiu jitsu and suggest that this constellation of physical and psychological events can drain the fun out of rolling if they're not kept in check. As we'll see, it's not that the fight or flight response needs to be harnessed or redirected--rather, it needs to be dampened down or avoided altogether before it ever gets us in its grips (for by then, its too late to reel ourselves back in). Having discussed the negative impact that the fight or flight response has on one's jiu jitsu development, I will then go on in Part 4 to discuss the need for grapplers to learn to go with the flow while training rather than fighting in vain against the stream.